


Winter Wedding and a Bedding

by ll72



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sex, F/F, Incest, Lesbian, Marriage, Sistercest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-25 19:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14385096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ll72/pseuds/ll72
Summary: Sansa Stark is to be wed to the sister she has not seen for eight years; is there time to get to know Arya before the bedding?





	1. Chapter 1

A Song of Ice and Fire, so if you don't recognise some of the minor characters from TV its probably because they're from the books. The slant I put on it is mine...

*

Sansa

Winter is Coming, they were the words of the Starks and with the flurries of snow outside her coach driven along by the chill winds of the North, Sansa Stark could well believe they were literal. But for her Spring was about to dawn and from that the Summer of womanhood. Despite the cold she couldn't help but look outside the coach again, past the riders of her escort and towards the sea. There on the rocky coast was a keep, not as big as Winterfell, but still one of the great castles of the North and she was about to become it's lady.

"Sansa put your head in," her Mother said firmly, "Tomorrow you'll be a woman wed, not a child."

"Sorry," Sansa said, bringing her head back in out of the cold. At eighteen she didn't feel like she was a child, but she wasn't the argumentative type - she prided herself on being a dutiful daughter and would be an equally dutiful wife. It was still exciting though... and scary. After all her soon to be husband was both a stranger and not; they had been eight when Sansa had last saw them, with scabby knees and hair tangled like a wild-hedge. They had not been alike then, despite being related by blood and probably wouldn't be alike now - though that mattered less, her Mother and Father were different as well, a wolf and a fish. But she still had a small fear in her stomach. She turned to her Mother again, "What if Arya doesn't like me?" she asked.

Her Mother smiled back, reassuringly, "She will."

It was the Targaryens who'd brought sibling marriage to the Seven Kingdoms. According to Septa Mordane before the Dragon's arrived incest was regarded as a crime against nature, something Sansa had trouble believing, and only because the Septa said it did she believe it was true. The Septa said that Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms had quickly accepted the custom, after all a man who aped the King was a man fit for betterment and soon it wasn't unusual for siblings to marry. Not all did, the majority of still married outside their families, to build alliances and gain land or to seek protection or expand their influences. But ever since she had been small Sansa had realised as a woman she would be wed to whoever was right for her and her Family, be that her brother Robb or a complete stranger from the Riverlands or Dorne.

"We didn't always get on as children," Sansa said nervously, which was an understatement as she and her tomboy sister had fought like two cats shoved in a sack. "She wasn't very ladylike," she added as way of an explanation as if one was needed.

Her Mother smiled again, "That was then. Arya had a different path to walk."

Her Father had wisely decided when Arya was little that gowns and dolls and embroidery weren't for a daughter who loved swords and hunting and getting into scrapes. She was a boy born in the wrong body he declared, like some of the best warriors were, Queen Nymeria or Visenya Targaryen. So eight years ago, Arya had mounted up a horse, and rode out with her Father and an honour escort of his bannermen to ride to Evenfall to be a squire for Brienne of Tarth. Sansa had not seen her since, ravens had kept her Mother and Father apprised of their youngest daughter's progress and they had kept Sansa and her brothers informed. 

"She has done well," Sansa said. Her sister had prospered as a Squire and whilst she kept her Father's old Gods, rather than the new of her Mother and so hadn't sworn the vows of in front of a Sept, she had become a knight in all but name. Her proud Father had given her a castle to hold in his name as Warden of the North, to support the Night's Watch and keep an eye on any of the rebellious Lords. He was looking for a wife for her.

And then King Robert had died. It wasn't unexpected, the man drank like a horse and ate like a whale, and so falling over as heart-attack was not a surprise (even if some of the rumours said it was while he was a atop a woman who was not the Queen). There had been rumours of war, his son Joffrey was not popular with many of the Lords. He was not popular with her Father either, but duty and honour compelled him to support the King. The banners had been called and Lord Eddard had marched with his son, Robb and daughter Arya. 

The actual fighting had been desultory, with the North and the Lannister in support of the King and the rest of the Kingdoms quickly following the rebel Lords had either bent the knee, claiming they had mispoken or had been destroyed in battle. Her Father had entered Kings Landing and confirmed his loyalty to the King who swore that he loved him like an Uncle, better in fact that his Uncle Tyrion. All would have ended there, her Father would have returned, her brother as well and her sister to her Keep, except for the Queen Mother's mutterings. 

Queen Cersei had a reputation for not being as bright as she thought she was and it was a reputation well deserved. She had hinted that marriages between Robb and her youngest daughter would bind Lannister and Stark together, her father wasn't adverse to that, even if it would be years before it could be consummated. However word had reached his ears that she also planned to use the small council to arrange a marriage between Joffrey and Sansa and that her Father couldn't allow. If the rumours were true the King was a sadist and fool, both would have been just about acceptable if he wasn't also a craven. Sansa needed to be married and soon, Raven's flew back to Kingsfell, Arya took ship and it was arranged that sister would marry sister.

"We're here," Catelyn Stark announced as the mud road turned to stone, trundling over the bridge that led to the castle. Sansa quickly checked herself in her hand mirror, making sure not a hair was out of place and the gemstones she'd chosen for her necklace were as symmetrical as a Sept. Her Mother smiled, looking as excited and nervous as Sansa felt - the young woman realised it was a big event for her as well, both her daughters marrying.

They carried on over the bridge, through the raised portcullis and into the courtyard. Through the window Sansa could see the castle's inhabitants and the local small folk waiting curiously to see their new lady. She sat still for a moment, hearing the crunch of feet on the cobblestones as a guard walked up to the carriage. The door snapped open, letting in coolness and light into its dusky interior. Her Mother was out first, taking someone's arm to help her descend and then it was Sansa's turn.

It had been eight years, but she immediately recognised the young woman waiting for her and offering her arm to lean on. Arya's dark hair was longer and more neatly groomed than before, her face less angular and childlike, her hips more womanly and if her bosom medium rather than large it was still noticeable beneath her leather jerkin. But it was still her sister, though Sansa was sure she hadn't been so beautiful, and Sansa had always thought her gawky rather than slender. But now she looked radiant, in her smart jerkin and trousers, with a sword at her side, a perfect knight.

"Mother, my Lady, welcome to my keep," Arya said.

For a moment Sansa was so swept up in the loveliness of her sister she forgot her courtesies and it was only as her Mother began to curtsey she remembered them. She lowered herself as her Mother did, curtseying low, "I am very happy to be here, my Lady," she replied back, keeping herself in position for a couple of moments. She had deliberately chosen one of her lowest cut-dresses this morning and she was hoping that Arya was liking what she saw.

"You must have travelled far, I know how tiring that can be for ladies," said Arya, almost emphasising that she wasn't one in anything but name. "I have put aside some chambers for your personal use. Come Mother, I will show you yours, my Steward will escort Sansa to hers." Sansa felt a stab disappointment as her sister slipped her arm through her Mother's leading her in another direction than to the tower the Steward stepped forward to take Sansa to. She had immediately hoped her beautiful sister would take her and tell her stories of her gallantry during the uprising. Sansa was sure that it was nothing more than Arya wanting to catch up with her Mother who had she hadn't seen for years, though she also wished she hadn't been quiet so mean about Arya's embroidery when they were children. 

*

Whatever Arya really thought of her sister she was a generous host. In the chambers there had been cold cuts of capon, quail eggs and freshly baked bread as well as some sweet mulled wine and even some iced strawberries and cream. Sansa had invited her best friend Jeyne Poole to eat with her and soon they were sitting on the bed, giggling away about how pretty Arya was and how lucky Sansa was going to be. The meal and the company made light of Sansa's doubts and after they had eaten she removed her dress and sat in her smallclothes as Jeyne brushed her long red hair, the two of them talking about everything and nothing.

The conversation was interrupted by a bang on the door. "Who's there?" asked Sansa expecting the guard to answer.

"It's me, Arya," came an unexpected voice, "I just came to check that you were settling in and that your quarters were too your liking."

"Just a moment," squeaked Sansa in panic, "I'm in my small clothes." Immediately she cursed herself for saying something so stupid, it was either telling her sister too much or coming over as prudish given they were to be married on the morrow. Still, she couldn't invite her sister in wearing just her shift and she quickly looked around for her dress. Luckily Jeyne was already picking it up and holding it open for her to step into. Sansa forced herself to calm and not count how long it was taking her friend to do her up and then find her necklace to put back in place. It seemed to take ages and she hoped Arya had learnt patience. Finally she was done, though she left her hair out of its netting and let it flow down her back. "Please come in," she called, "I'm dressed."

The door opened and Arya entered. She looked even more beautiful than she had earlier, her jerkin replaced by a looser shirt which was unbuttoned at the top and her sword replaced by a more discrete dagger at the belt. "Are these quarters to your liking?" she asked.

"They are," nodded Sansa, though even if they'd been a sty she wouldn't have complained to her betrothed (though she would have made a mental note to have a stern wife word the Goodwife responsible for the domestics).

"And the food?"

"It was most delicious my lady," replied Sansa.

Her sister smiled. "I have the cook baking some lemon cakes."

"You remembered."

"They were always your favourite."

"They still are," said Sansa smiling.

"We should get some from the kitchen, I'll show you the castle while we're at it," said Arya. She proffered Sansa her arm.

The redhead knew that this was an invite for her alone. "Jeyne, my cloak please. The green fur-lined one, it is cold." She took the cloak over her shoulders, tying the knots at the front as her sister waited. She spoke to Jeyne first, "Make sure my Father's men have unpacked my things, speak to the Steward to see where they go." Then she turned back to her sister, sliding her arm through hers, "Show me your castle."

If it wasn't as big as Winterfell it was still large enough that Sansa worried she'd never find her way around it. And there were so many people as well and Arya knew them all - the guards, the potboys, the stable hands who were brushing their horses and the scullery maids who were cleaning the Great Hall in preparation for tomorrow. Then there was the kennel master and the hawker, the rat-catcher and the Septon, a Maester and Steward, a Captain of the Guard and a Master of the Horse. And children and wives and younger sister and orphans and wards and more, hundreds and hundreds of people who as the Castle Lady she would have to get to know. It was almost too much and if she hadn't been held by Arya she'd have probably been so overwhelmed she'd have sank to her knees and sat in exhaustion.

She quickly appreciated that her sister was made of sterner stuff, she agreed with the Septon the hymns they were going to sing and cut him off when he suggested the vows should be in the Sept, not the Godswood. With the Steward she spoke about the costs and how much they could put on credit without driving the smaller merchants into penury. With the Goodwife she said all was going well and the woman didn't need to worry, the scully maids would have the floor cleaned in time and she'd told Kennel Master to keep his dogs from the Hall until the banquet. With the Captain of the Guard she checked the roster and that the men on guard during the feast would be paid double for missing it and with the Hawker she joshed about which of his falcons was the faster. With one kitchen wench she congratulated her on engagement and with another she asked about her little boy and a third she chided for gossiping instead of working. Walking past her guard she told one he needed to clean his armour better and thanked another for agreeing to take the gate tomorrow, and with a third she joshed that sexy little wench he just got engaged too was dying for a ride.

With all the stopping and talking to others Sansa was almost surprised her sister had time to speak to her. But she did. They talked about Sansa's embroidery and hawking (Arya promising she'd speak to Hawker to choose a bird for Sansa), both showing a polite interest in the others point of view that they'd never done when they were children. But when Arya spoke of her training Sansa really had to feign interest up until it came to the tourneys where Arya had unhorsed Robbet Glover in her first and would have gone further if she hadn't been drawn against Jaime Lannister. That sounded so exciting that Sansa was rapt and the melee sounded so dangerous and thrilling that as Arya described her older sister was filled with admiration for her betrothed. She asked her about the battles she had fought in and the rebels she had killed. Arya wasn't so descriptive about those; modest about her achievements, Sansa was sure, but telling her enough that the redhead's heart pumped with exhilaration and whilst she was glad she hadn't been there she was equally glad she was going to marry someone courageous enough who had.

They came to the kitchen, probably the busiest place in the castle with the feast on the morrow. Arya thanked the cook for his hard work and checked everything was being readied for the banquet. As they had left she had taken two freshly baked lemon cakes and given them both to Sansa with a smile.

They climbed the stairs to the courtyard. There was a winter chill in the air and the drizzle coming down was more like sleet than rain. Sansa hugged her cloak tighter, glad that she was wearing it and thinking how tough her sister must be that the only thing covering her shirt was a light leather jerkin. She didn't mind that as they walked across the cobbles Arya pulled her close and tight, their body warmth mingling together. Arya had always been smaller than her and even now at sixteen, almost fully grown, she had was almost a foot less than her older sister. It allowed Sansa to gently rest her head on her sister's, leaning on her as they walked.

"Last is the Godswood," said Arya.

"Is it as big as Winterfell's?" asked Sansa.

"Big, but not as big. It has a Weirwood for us to say our vows tomorrow," Arya said.

"Then perhaps my lady, I'll see it on the morrow, it is growing cold," Sansa shivered.

Her sister smiled and pulled her closer, their arms inter-linked, "It has a hot spring, warm like Winterfell, it won't be cold." She paused, "And I'd like a little time with you before the wedding tomorrow, we're almost strangers."

That was true. Sansa smiled and nodded, "I'd like a little time with you as well."

Arya led her sister across the courtyard to the Godswood, enclosed behind a large wall. The guard at the gate stood aside and let them through the wooden door. Sansa stepped in, feeling the warmth almost immediately. It was smaller than the Godswood at Winterfell, but just as magical; even Sansa who mainly worshipped the New Gods always felt something whenever she knelt in front of the Weirwood to pray to the old. Like Winterfell the Weirwood tree was the centre, old and gnarled with a face so skilfully carved that into it's trunk it almost seemed alive. Around it were plants and smaller trees, all carefully tended and a lawn which had been recently grazed to keep it short. To one side, perhaps a hundred yards from the Weirwood was a bubbling spring and a babbling brook feeding into it, the pool itself almost surrounded by flat rocks, which led into it like steps.

What made Sansa smile was the rug that was laid out before it, with honey chicken, sweet apples and strawberry pie and other dishes - including some more lemon cakes. Arya led her over to it, "I told Mother I would break my fast with her on the morrow, but tonight I would eat alone with you, to get to know you." She let go off her sister's arm and moved behind her, "Are you warm enough with the spring? Shall I remove your cloak?"

"Yes," said Sansa to both and let her sister unloop the knots and slip the cloak off her shoulders. 

"Sit," said Arya and did herself, "Wine?" She uncorked a leather flask and as Sansa nodded poured some for them both into a pair of silver goblets. Sansa sipped it, it was sweet and spicy at the same time.

Reaching forward she picked up a carved bit of honeyed chicken, nibbling it delicately. Arya smiled and took a breast, eating it without the same sense of decorum, so that even as Sansa finished her small piece Arya had eaten her larger and was following it up with a slice of cold boar. The redhead smiled at her sister and stretched herself so that her bodice swelled. Arya's eyes followed it before she looked up, "Are you a maiden, Sansa?"

The redhead blushed, "Yes, though my maidenhood broke when riding a while back."

"I'm not, though I've ridden a few," Arya said. Sansa wasn't surprised, her sister was knight in all but name and warriors had needs that highborn ladies had to suppress. She nodded and smiled weakly. Her sister bit into the pork and chewed it, "A couple of days after I first bled, Lord Selwyn brought me a whore to fuck, Brienne was too embarrassed to do so. He said I should if I was born with a cock I'd have bedded a woman and there was no reason just because I was born without one I shouldn't do the same."

"He's right," agreed Sansa.

"I've bedded a number since then, whores and serving girls, daughters of knights and even a couple of young widows. I was half expecting Father to marry me to Margaery Tyrell, her Father was sniffing around and she's a widow-twice, very experienced."

"I wasn't expecting you to come to our wedding night a maiden," explained Sansa, "You have needs as a knight."

"Needs you're expected to fulfil as my wife," Arya looked at her sister.

"Yes," agreed Sansa. She wasn't stupid, she knew marriage wasn't just songs and picnics together.

"How much do you know about what men and women do together or women and women? How much do you know about fucking?" Arya asked.

"A little," said Sansa, "I know you take your clothes off." When Jeyne had told her about that it had seemed decidedly wicked in both a good and bad way. "And we touch each other, below, our lady bits." Her Mother had explained that to her this morning in the coach, though she hadn't been very specific. In fact, now she thought about it she seemed woefully unprepared for her sister. "I can learn though, I want to be a good wife."

Arya grinned and laughed, "Oh Sansa, don't worry. We were all maidens once. I'll teach you everything."

Sansa smiled nervously back and tried to relax. She wasn't used to being the gauche one of the two of them, she was the oldest who could name all the words of the Great Houses, the one who everyone said was a perfect Lady whilst Arya was the ragamuffin who played with wooden swords. Things had changed in the last eight years and now it was Arya who was the clever one, the Lord of a castle and a knight and Sansa was the uneducated maiden. 

"Have some Strawberry Pie," Arya picked up a bowl and slid some pie onto it before passing it to her sister.

"Thank you," said Sansa. She ate it as her sister supped at some more capon and drank down the wine in gulps, not sips. The pie was delicious, the cook here as good as Gage. A little bit of frosted cream on top the crust ended on her nose and she blushed as she wondered what her betrothed must think.

"Here," said Arya and leaned across the blanket, her finger gently rubbing at Sansa's nose and removing the cream.

"Thank you," said Sansa, always with the courtesies.

Her sister didn't move, but continued to lean close, so that her face was inches away from Sansa's. The redhead didn't mind, it was a very beautiful face. It also seemed to be coming closer.

"Oh," she gasped, her head rocking back as Arya's lips touched hers. Her sister pulled back and Sansa blushed heavily, "I wasn't expecting you," she stammered.

Arya grinned like she wasn't worried, "We're wedding tomorrow I was planning to get to know you tonight."

"Yes, I mean, I wasn't ready," Sansa felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment and she so wanted to be a good wife, not fall at the first joust. She shrugged herself, pushing forward her bosom and moved so that she was sitting comfortably, "I'm ready now."

"For me to kiss you?" Arya raised an eyebrow teasingly.

"Yes," said Sansa. 

Her sister leaned in again, closer and closer until her lips were on Sansa's. The redhead pursed hers in reply and was surprised to find her sister's were opening. She slid hers open in response and it seemed natural to move them gently at her sister. Arya seemed to be happy with her actions as she continued to kiss her, her mouth widening to slurp and slip round Sansa's and her tongue gently licking the inside of the redhead's lips. It felt nice and felt a warm feeling in her sex, which she sometimes got when she thought of naked men. This time she thought of naked women and what it would be like to have Arya naked before her. It was a nice thought and a nice feeling and she kissed her sister back.

"Oh," she gave another small gasp, quicker this time and less surprised (though still a little). Arya's hands had moved onto her boobs and her sister was gently groping them through the dress. She grinned at Sansa and Sansa smiled nervously back and returned to kissing her sister, feeling her titties was just getting to know her. If they didn't do it now they'd be doing it on their wedding night; and Sansa didn't want to get into her bridal bed totally inexperienced. She kissed back at Arya letting her sister's tongue explore and probe her, the lithe muscle sliding around inside her mouth, pushing at her own tongue and slipping gently over it. 

Arya's hand moved slightly and Sansa could feel her tugging at the string at the front of her bodice. This time Sansa managed to conceal her surprise and nervousness and continued to let her mouth run over her sister's as the younger Stark pulled at the knot. It gave way and the string pulled out, loosening the dress. Luckily Sansa was wearing her small clothes or else she was sure a tit would have been exposed, as it was all that could be seen was the milky flesh at the top, which had been on display anyway, and the silk of her shift. 

Her sister's hand returned to her tits, stroking and playing with them. Without the dress in the way Sansa could feel the tips of her sister's fingers tracing patterns and pressing gently into her flesh. Her ladybits felt warmly moist. 

Without any warning Arya's hands moved from the boobs down to Sansa's side and the redhead felt a flash of disappointment quickly followed by a nervousness that she had done something wrong. As Arya's lips continued to move against hers she soon decided she hadn't and concentrated on kissing back, moving her mouth in time with her sisters. She was soon answered on why the hands had shifted as they moved from her waist to up her back and the laces at the back of her dress. She had to give a small squeak of shock as Arya began to undo them, pulling it away and exposing her back. Arya smiled, her head falling back enough that Sansa's lips were free, giving her the space to say something and object. Sansa didn't. she smiled back nervously and let her sister unlace her, before Arya pulled the dress down to her waist so that the only thing covering her top was her shift.

Her sister leant in and kissed her again, slowly and tenderly her mouth remaining closed. As she pulled back she took Sansa's dress and dragged it further down, the redhead shifting herself so that her sister could remove it. She felt both liberated and scared sitting just in her smallclothes, not quiet naked but very near, Arya looked her up and down, smiling softly. "You are beautiful," Arya she murmured quietly. 

Sansa went red, which seemed to be her default colour at the moment, "You are too kind," she stammered.

Arya stood and pulled of her leather jerkin, dropping it to the floor. Her boots followed. "We should go in the Spring, its revitalising, like being born again."

"I'm still wearing my shift," said Sansa, though even as she said it didn't seem much of an excuse.

"Take it off," grinned Arya. She undid her shirt and pulled it off, showing her teats to her sister. Sansa stared at them, feeling the warmth between her legs again. The heat didn't dissipate as Arya pulled of her trousers as well. She wasn't wearing any smallclothes and her lady hole was shorn. She grinned standing above her sister, placing her hands on her hips, "You like what you see?"

"Yes," blushed Sansa. Her sister's body was slender and toned, with just enough hint of muscle to show her strength, without leaving her rippling like some of her Father's guardsmen did when they practised without shirts in the Summer. 

"Come join me when you're ready," grinned Arya. She skipped up the rock and jumped into the bubbling water, being lost to her sister's view as she vanished under the surface, only to explode upwards seconds later. She pushed herself backwards, "You won't have anything I've not seen before, unless you've got a cock; you haven't got a cock have you?"

"No," blushed Sansa. She paused for a moment or two watching her sister swim backwards through the water with the grace of an otter. Then she pulled of her shift, immediately covering her teats with her arm and her ladybits with the other hand.

Arya stopped swimming and treaded water, grinning at her sister. "If I could see them I'm sure I'd like them." Sansa blushed again and her sister laughed, "I'll turn away so you can slip under the water and hide them, though I'll see them soon enough."

That was true and Sansa wanted it, she just wished she was quiet as shy and nervous, she really was a maiden. Her sister was as good as her word, turning away from her and looking the other way. Sansa stood and ran over to the rocks, she wasn't going to jump down and instead she used the ones that were like stairs, stepping daintily down and into the water. She wasn't as strong a swimmer as Arya, who if she hadn't become a warrior could have been a fish, so she waded down to just over waist deep and then crouched so that her teats were under the surface, "I'm in," she called.

In the water in front of her Arya twirled, a wide grin on her pretty face. She powered forward the half dozen yards separating them and then just before she arrived at her sister's side she kicked up her feet and dove under the water, swimming around Sansa nakedness. Up she came with a splash so close, that the water exploded all over Sansa. "You're hardly in," she grinned and then to prove it stood, her firm tits jiggling right in her sisters eyeline. "Come deeper."

She reached down and took hold of Sansa's hands, walking backward down the Spring's slope. Her sister waddled down, gradually raising her haunches but always so that her boobs were under the bubbling water. Arya's who's tits were on view laughed, aware that her sister was covering herself, "I have to get a view of those teats, they must be something special."

"They're just normal," Sansa blushed, wishing she could just stand up and show them confidently like her sister.

"I bet they're not, I bet they are lovely," Arya smiled, "They felt very nice and plump earlier."

Sansa blushed and Arya kicked back again, swimming around her sister and into the deeper bits of the pool before coming back again. This time she didn't dive as she stopped in front of Sansa, but instead slipped her arms round the back of her sister's neck, crouching so that they were on the level and moved in to kiss her. Sansa reciprocated, her mouth opening to receive Arya's tongue. It moved and explored and Sansa felt her sex singing under the warm water. She giggled as Arya broke the kiss. "I'm just a silly girl," Sansa said and stood showing her sister her bosom.

"Those teats are something," Arya grinned, "They're so sexy and juicy. I could gobble them" And before Sansa could say a word her sister's mouth was on her teat. The nipple hardened and Arya's slid her mouth down to tease it, running her tongue over and suckling it and nipping it between her teeth. 

Sansa let out a little moan of pleasure and Arya switched to the left, quickly biting on the erect stub and teasing it. Then just as Sansa was getting used to that Arya switched back, shifting between the right and left like she was undecided which one she liked best. She did seem to like them though, teething and licking and sucking the boobs and making Sansa give out little groans.

"Ooohh," Sansa squeaked out. Arya's hand was under the water rubbing gently at her ladyhole. Her younger sister brought her head away from the tit and looked Sansa in the eyes, grinning widely. She made no attempt to stop, her fingers slipping over the slit and the special spot above. "Oooohh," Sansa moaned again, trembling and only partially from nerves. "Ooooohhhh," she moaned louder.

Arya's hand worked quicker, running at the sweetest spot, harder and harder. She grinned and kept her eyes on Sansa, the redhead blushing but unable to break the look. Her sister's touch felt so good, so powerful, so satisfying - she now knew why womanhood was so desirable and why childhood must pass. Her sister's fingers were spreading her slit open, and the last vestiges of her innocence, she didn't care. All that mattered was the pleasure. "AAhh, ohhh," she gave a squeak and groan as Arya's finger entered her. "OOooohhh."

"MMnnn Sansa, you're tight," Arya said. She pushed the finger in and out. Sansa groaned and shuddered, feeling the water bubble around her. Her sex's walls were clamping round her sister's digit, suckling it and smothering it and every thrust was a pleasure and an excitement. "You're maidenhood has gone," confirmed Arya with a smile as she went deeper, "but I can tell this pussy is still maiden. It feels unsullied."

"OOoohh yes Arya, its never been touched, not until you," gasped Sansa. If this was what happened on her wedding night she wanted it to come as quickly as it could, the feeling between her legs was the most intense and exhilarating she'd ever had. Her back bent and she gasped in pleasure as Arya's finger went in as deep as it could.

And then there was a second.

"Ooohhh, Arya, ooooohhhh," Sansa squeaked as her sister pumped her with two fingers, stretching her tight tunnel and driving upwards. The walls quivered and pulsed, wrapping round the fingers and loving them. "OOoohhh," the redhead moaned again and Arya smiled.

"This is nothing, wait until the morrow when I fuck you properly," the younger Stark said.

"OOohhh Mother Above," Sansa cried out in ecstasy, blaspheming the Seven, though she was sure the Mother would have sympathy for her words and the Maiden would be jealous. "Oooohhh, yessss, yessss, urrrhhh this is so great."

Her sister didn't answer as her mouth was clamped around one of Sansa's teats again, pleasuring it with her mouth as she was pleasuring the sex with her fingers. The redhead gasped and shuddered, overwhelmed by the sensual bliss burning through her. The ecstasy was growing within her, becoming almost majestic in its intensity, until she felt she was going to faint. Her sisters teeth nipped and teased the nipple, pulling it out gently before letting it spring back as she turned her attention to the other one. Her fingers were pumping and pounding harder and harder, thrusting in deep to Sansa's ladyhole. The redhead cried out again, "Uuurrrhh, uuurrhhh, please this is so good, don't end it."

Arya's head came up, but only as far as far as her sister's throat. Standing on her tiptoes, she grabbed the back of Sansa's neck dragging her down to her level, so she could kiss her. Their mouths met in a hungry grapple, Arya's tongue stabbing forward into one hole as her fingers speared another. Sansa kissed back in loving reply, her hands wrapping round her sister's back to hold her to her. The younger Stark pressed forward, her lips reaching round Sansa's as if she was trying to swallow her, her fingers thrusting in and out.

Sansa's legs had never felt so weak nor her heart pumped so fast. Was this what battle felt like? If so she knew why the singers sung so many songs about it. She cried out breaking her kiss, the pleasure so powerful that she felt she might faint, "Aaaarrrghhh, yessssss, aaaaraggghhh." 

She almost fell, her legs feeling like they were jellied eels. Only Arya's grip stopped her, gripping her bottom and keeping her upwards. Sansa gasped and panted, her head lolling forward onto her sister's shoulder as she hugged her betrothed close to keep herself standing. After a few moments she felt she had regained enough power of speech to talk, "Oh Arya, that was lovely. I didn't know I could feel so good."

"That was nothing," grinned Arya and from her expression Sansa guessed that wasn't a statement of false modesty. "We should get out of the Spring, before we get too wrinkly."

"Yes," Sansa replied. She reluctantly let go off her sister to walk back up the sloping steps. But before she could turn Arya was scooping her up in her arms and lifting her in a cradle. Despite being smaller she was stronger and she carried Sansa easily up the rocks. Sansa placed her arms round her sister's back, hanging onto the nape of her neck both for balance and so she could stare into betrothed beautiful face as she carried her.

Gently Arya lowered her down next to the picnic. Then she followed onto her knees. She smiled down at Sansa, "I'm going to tongue-fuck your cunt now, if you thought the fingering was good, this will be even better."

"Oh yes, Arya, please, make me feel like that again, please pleasure me my love," Sansa moaned.

Her sister was sliding down onto her belly, pushing Sansa's thighs apart and lowering her mouth to Sansa's lady parts. Arya's tongue came out and gently slid down and up the slit, lazily and slowly licking away, touching the lips gently and making them sway. Sansa couldn't help but moan, shivering in the Godswood and not due to the cold. Above her she could see stars through the gaps in the dark clouds, they seemed to twinkle even more brightly as her sister's tongue swept up and down.

"Oh," she moaned as Arya sped up, doing things with her tongue that Sansa hadn't thought were possible, but was happy they were. Arya was going up and probing hard at Sansa's special spot, the one that always felt so lovely when she touched under her shift when she was in bed. It felt lovelier as her sister was driving her tongue at it, hammering hard at the small lump of hard flesh. She shuddered and shook, her hands stretched out on the grass and her stomach rising and falling rapidly as she panted and gasped.

"Mmmnnn, mmmnnn," Arya ate greedily, her tongue going faster around Sansa's special secret place and over her slit. The redhead gave a little squeal as Arya's tongue suddenly penetrated her, the younger Stark forcing the hole open and pressing in. She wiggled and waggled the tongue at the hole, tickling and pleasuring Sansa in a way that the redhead could only but love. Her sister's head pushed further forward, the tongue going deeper and exploring her maiden hole. Arya's hands meanwhile were stroking and massaging the redhead's thighs, further relaxing her as she moaned and gasped.

"OOOhhh, ooohhh, urrrhhh, oooohhh Arya, you are making me feel so good," Sansa cried. Her sister kept on licking and Sansa cried out again, her body shaking and shuddering. The Faith said there were seven heavens, but Sansa thought tonight there were eight and the last one was in the Godswood. "Ooooohhh, yessss, ooooohhh," she squeaked and squealed, no other words coming to her mind, "Oooohhhh, uuurrrhhh."

Arya tongued her faster and harder, her tongue pushing down her hole as deep as the young woman could manage, thrashing and slapping at the walls and making them wet with joyful pleasure. Then she was out and smacking her tongue at the redhead's special spot, driving Sansa to sexual distraction and making her scream to the sky, "Aaaarrghhh, oooohhh, urrrrrhhhh, yesssss."

And still Arya wasn't stopping.

The younger Stark's hand moved to her sister's ladybits, holding the hole apart with her fingers and forcing her tongue deeper into the quivering mass. Sansa squealed and cried, her enjoyment at becoming a woman as loud as she'd ever been. If this was what marriage was like she was even more looking forward to her wedding than she had been before; she only hoped that Arya wouldn't stop when they were wed. Certainly her sister seemed disinclined to stop any time, her tongue pounding even deeper, swirling around the wet hole and pleasuring parts of her Sansa didn't even know existed. "OOohhhh," she shook again, her back arching, "Ooohhh my... yesssss."

"Mother Above," she shrieked again as Arya's thrust in a couple of fingers, working them hard and fast at the soaked hole. The younger Stark shoved them down deep, driving them up to the knuckles in the redhead's hole. Her tongue moved up and concentrated on battering her special spot and Sansa felt so much pleasure that it was like she was about to die. "OOohhhhh."

Her skin was red and burning, her heart pumping and pounding like a war drum, her throat dry from her gasps and cries. With each touch of her sister she was shaking, her boobs bouncing and jiggling on her chest. The stars seemed to be spinning in the sky and the Weirwood tree whispering its approval. Sansa squealed loudly as another rush of pleasure poured through her, even more powerful than any before, seeming to shred and burn her and tear her from this world into the next. "Aaaaarrrghhh, yesssss, aaaaarrggghhh." 

"You taste better than lemon cake," Arya lifted her head and smiled cheekily at her sister.

Sansa blushed, "I hope you liked it."

"Almost as much as you," her sister replied as she crawled up and over Sansa's naked body, her own tits and ladyhole brushing over the redhead's skin. She stopped as her mouth reached Sansa's, her lips coming down and opening as they descended for a sensual kiss. Sansa kissed her back, letting her betrothed's tongue, which had so recently been in her private place slip into her mouth. There was a strange taste to it, not lemon cake, something else entirely which she couldn't place.

It was almost with reluctance Arya broke the kiss. "We should get dressed, we have a big day tomorrow."

"I am looking forward to it," giggled Sansa, smiling prettily. And she was.

*


	2. Chapter 2

Standing in front of the Weirwood tree, singing a hymn to the Seven, Arya Stark couldn't believe how exquisitely beautiful her new wife was. She stood there singing without a stutter or pause, not even having to glance at the other singers' mouths to remind her of the words or keep herself in tune (unlike Arya who kept having to hum the bits she'd forgotten) looking like a picture of perfection. Arya breathed heavily, missed a beat and moved onto the third verse noticeably before anyone else. Her new wife gave her a quick, almost shy smile, before starting at exactly the right point.

It was hard to believe that the beautiful creature wearing Arya's cloak, with her lacy low cut dress and with the hair piled up on top of her head studded with diamonds and rubies, was now her wife. Whilst sibling marriage wasn't uncommon among the great houses, Arya had always believed that if Sansa married in the family it would be Robb or perhaps Bran, but never her. The Old Gods must sometimes know your heart's prayer even if you never say it out loud in front of the tree and here she was.

The hymn ended and the Septon finished his piece with a few words of thanks to the Seven. That done Arya and her new wife walked a few feet forward and knelt on a blanket in front of the Weirwood tree. Bowing their heads they prayed so softly and silently that none of the audience could here, though many were from the North and knew the words. That done they stood up to the cheers of the crowd.

Not long after they were sitting in the Great Hall, Sansa sitting next to her wife at the top table. Arya was aware she probably was grinning so much that she looked like the cat that had got the cream, but as far as she was concerned she was just that. Her sister, her wife, was smiling and conversing with their younger brother Rickon about his squiring whilst Arya divided her time between looking at her wife and remembering her naked and talking to their Mother. Lady Catelyn Stark was very forgiving about her youngest daughter's lapses in politeness, etiquette had never been Arya's favourite lesson - even as a knight. 

All around them her Father's bannermen caroused, Flints and Glovers, Umbers and Boltons, Manderlys and the she-bears of House Mormont. Her own knights and lesser Lords matched their guests drink for drink and joke for joke, laughing and shouting, grasping the arses of any serving girl who got in reach, dragging them onto their laps. Arya once would have been down with them, betting with Jorelle Mormont who could snag the pretty kitchen wench with the big teats. Arya cast a sideways look at Sansa, her wife's red hair seeming to glow under the torches, she certainly had the best part of the deal, let Jorelle have the maid, Arya had the pretty maiden. 

On the floor the fools stopped their show, bowing in an over the top fashion (one going so far as to fall on his face); hardly anyone noticed, except for Sansa who showed why she be a great lady by politely clapping their efforts. The musicians came next, starting with some old favourites The Bear and the Maiden Fair and The Dornishman's Wife, the more drunken members of the party singing along in a rendition so out of tune even Arya noticed. She smiled as they moved to the 'My Lady Wife' turning to briefly look at Sansa. It was when they began to play Two Hearts that Beat as One her wife stood. "I believe this is our dance my Lady," she smiled.

"Yes," Arya stood and took her wife's upraised hand leading her onto the floor, to the stamps and cheers of the diners. The dance was a slow one, which Arya was grateful for, give her a sword and a shield and she was as supple and skilled as anyone, put her on the dance floor and her feet seemed to go in the opposite direction from where she planned. Her wife raised her hand high and Arya took as they moved together in a slow circle opposite each other, their heads turned so they were looking at each other.

She was so beautiful. Arya smiled, "I am so going to fuck you later."

"Arya," giggled Sansa pretending to look shocked, "You shouldn't be so coarse."

"No, but I am still going to fuck you hard," Arya grinned.

"Will you make me feel like you did yesterday?" Sansa's smile was sweet and lovely, shy and coy and Arya's cunt tingled with desire.

"Yes," vowed Arya. The music changed and they switched direction, their heads turning the other way so they were looking at each other again. "I can't wait to get those lovely teats out again."

Sansa went red, she blushed easily, "They are yours Arya, my Lady." 

She smiled as she spoke, her embarrassment balanced by her wetness. And Arya knew how wet her sister could become, yesterday they had picnicked to get to know each other again after many years apart. And Arya had finger-fucked her sister's maiden twat and then tongued it until Sansa was soaked and screaming. The memory made her warm below herself and she thought about having Sansa's pretty face down there lapping her cunt. "You're looking forward to the fucking as well," she said.

Sansa giggled, "My Lady, remember your courtesies."

"What? I shouldn't grab that beautiful arse in public?" her sister teased.

"Yes, no..." laughed Sansa, "That..."

The musicians finished the song, pausing for a second before launching into Flowers of Spring. More guests joined the dancers and Arya was forced to first dance with her Mother and then Leona Manderly and Sybelle Glover. She followed that with a dance with her Steward's wife and the young daughter of her Master of Horse, the young child pleasing Arya by being an even worse dancer than her. She glanced up from time to time to see her wife dancing with their brothers and then both Galbert and Robbet Glover, a procession of Flints and even Whoresbane Umber, who was rumoured to prefer men.

"A wedding needs a bedding," Bran cried, standing in for her Father and older brother, still in King's Landing. The chant was taken up by the rest of the guests - tankards and goblets drumming on tables, boots crashing on floors, hands clapping together - a cacophony of noise seldom heard away from the battlefield. 

Within moments Arya was surrounded by women, from maidens to old crones, scullery maids to the wives of the Great Lords, they squeezing and grasping her, driving her towards the door. "Fuck her arse." "Make her cunt bleed." "Suck her teats" Even the high-borns felt free to offer suggestions at this time.

Near her Sansa was squealing and laughing, her beautiful face wreathed in smiles as she was chivvied and driven by the menfolk towards the door which led from the hall and to the Arya's chambers. Those nearest her were slapping her arse or giving her titties a gentle squeeze. Some weddings went further, the guests almost stripping the bride before they got to the bedroom. Arya had made clear that she didn't want that; Sansa might have outwardly acquiesced for not wanting to shame her new husband, but she was a gentle soul and wouldn't have enjoyed the public shaming. Anyway Arya wanted what was beneath all for herself.

The two Stark sisters arrived at the door almost at the same time, a grinning guard opening it and standing aside. "Shall we?" grinned Arya at her new wife.

"My lady," Sansa smiled back holding her hand out at shoulder height for Arya to take.

It would have been a very dignified hand in hand exit. Too dignified, Arya didn't want to shame her sister, but she didn't want to be demure - it was a bedding. She grabbed Sansa under her legs tipping her into her arms and scooping her up. Sansa squeaked in surprise and then smiled as Arya looked down at her and growled "Bedding now wife." 

She stepped through the door kicking it closed behind her and muffling the whoops and the catcalls behind her. Sansa smiled up at her, her arms wrapping round her sister's back, "Are you taking me to your chambers now?"

"Yes, let me carry you there," said Sansa as she began to climb the stairs. Sansa was taller than her, but willowy and slender; if you could carry a set of plate you could carry your bride. The redhead kept her eyes on Arya's face as they climbed, smiling shyly but lovingly, ready to loose her maidenhood to Arya and to be pleasured by her new husband. It didn't take them long to get to the chambers. Arya pushed the door aside with her shoulder and carried her wife over the threshold, "Here we are" she said and gently lowered her.

"Thank you for the lift my lady," Sansa smiled and curtsied, "Shall we disrobe now?"

"Oh yes," grinned Arya. Her sister turned and sat at the dresser and began to unpin the net that held up her hair, placing the diamond and ruby pins in a small wooden jewellery box. Behind her Arya wasted no time in stripping out of her wedding suit and her small clothes. Naked she moved to stand in front of the roaring fire, her feet brushing over the furry bear rug in front of it. She waited until her sister had removed the net and let her long red hair fall, shimmering under the torches, before stepping behind her and began to unlace her gown from the back. As she did so she pushed Sansa's hair over her shoulder so she had easy access for her back and neck, peppering them with little kisses.

Sansa giggled and Arya could see her smile in the mirror. Arya smiled back, kissing the side of her wife's neck, as her hands moved round to the front to unlace the bodice at the front. It didn't take long before they were loose enough that the teats were out, Arya gently holding them and rubbing with her things as her lips continued to explore her sister's throat up to under her ears. Sansa smiled prettily as her sister kissed her moving her hands to slowly pull down her dress, leaving her just in her silken kiss. Both of them moved at once, Sansa pulling one strap off her shoulder and Arya the other. The smallclothes slipped to the floor leaving them as naked as each other.

"Come in front of the fire," murmured Arya, she took her sister's hand and led her across the cold stone floor to the rug. She turned the redhead towards her and drank in her naked beauty. "Let me taste," she grinned and dropped to her knees in front of her sister.

She looked at the twat, so lovely, a tiny trim of red hair above it marking her sister as a woman, but leaving most of the cunt freeing for Arya's pleasure.

"Oh Arya," gasped Sansa as the younger Stark's hands went round to grasp her arse, pulling her the last foot towards her. Her mouth opened and she licked lightly at the cunt, teasing her sister with her tongue. She went slow and delicately, to make sure Sansa was in the mood. From her sister's moans she quickly guessed she was and her tongue went faster, sliding up the slot and hitting the clit as her hands kneaded and played with her sister's round peaches. 

"Oooohhh, Arya, ooooohhh, you don't know how much you pleasure me," moaned Sansa. Arya did, she'd been cunt-licked dozens if not hundreds of times herself and knew exactly how pleasurable it was, which was why she loved giving it to her sister. Her tongue moved faster and harder, working a groove between her sisters lips and dipping into the pink. The cunt was already wet and the juice tasted delicious on her tongue and if Sansa loved lemon cake, Arya loved cunny juice. She pushed harder, separating the lips and slipping deeper into her sister. 

"Oooohhh, ooooohhh," Sansa trembled and cried, her head falling back and her eyes closing, as she Arya's tongue sped in. The younger Stark's hands rubbed and gripped her sister's arse cheeks, playing with the back as she tongued the front. The buttocks were so soft and round, perfectly malleable as if they'd been designed for Arya's amusement. Her tongue pounded forward, exploring and enjoying the twat in equal measure. She loved the sounds her sister was making above her, pants and groans and cries, as if she couldn't decide what noise to make. The redhead shuddered and shivered, her hands gently resting on Arya's shoulders. Arya moved her tongue out and shifted to the clit, hitting the bud with a passion.

Sansa squeaked more loudly, her body shaking with pleasure. "Aaaarrrghh, husband, Arya, oooohhhh, aaarrghhh. You pleasure me, ooohhhh by the Mother Above, please more."

Arya's tongue went as fast as she could do, driving forward so her sister rocked on the balls of her feet, squealing in pleasure, "AAaarrrrghhh, Arya, aaaaarrghhhh, please, please... aaaarggggghhh." Her body shuddered like the doom of Valyria, "Aaaarrrrghhh, aaaaaargghhh."

Breaking the tonguing Arya stood and brought her sister's mouth to hers, the redhead responded to the kiss with passion, tasting her own cum without complaint. After a moment Arya drew her head back, "You should do the same to me," she smiled, "Eat my cunt."

"Oh I can't," Sansa blushed, "I mean I've never done it before, I won't be any good."

"You will be good, wife," Arya said. She sat down on the rug, pulling her legs towards her and spreading them. She was as smooth as marble down there and she slid her fingers down to open her cunny for her sister. 

Sansa paused for a second and then nervously got down first to her knees and then her stomach, replicating her sister's position of the yesterday. "If I'm bad..."

"You won't be bad..." said Arya's interrupting her. "Give it a go."

Sansa's tongue began to stroke her cunt, slowly and nervously. Arya gave a moan, more to encourage her sister than because anything was happening. It seemed to work as Sansa began to lick a little faster, moving up and down the slit and even touching the clitoral hood with just enough pressure for little songs of pleasure to sing to Arya. She grunted and looked down at her sister's bobbing head, her long tresses trailing down her back. "Good, you're doing good," she said encouragingly, her hand stroking down over the top of Sansa's scalp, the hair as soft as silk beneath her palm. "If you go faster and harder, press your tongue in."

Her sister complied and Arya let out a hiss of breath, for real, not false, as her sister's tongue drove at her cunny, forcing its way in and into her twat. Sansa paused, as if surprised she was in her sister and then she quickly resumed with an eagerness that Arya could not help but enjoy. Her sister's tongue was going faster and harder, slapping at the wet pink flesh of twat tunnel, the redhead's hands were on Arya's thighs, holding them, her fingers slowly tightening almost without realising it. 

"MMmnnn, uurrhhh," Arya let her breath out and then gulped it again. She had hoped Sansa would pleasure her with her tongue tonight, though she had worried she might be too nervous and she'd have to wait a few days until her wife picked up the confidence. But she had been sure that even if Sansa was going down it would be a work of many moons before she was seriously good at tonguing twat, but here she was, her first time, going for it with a passion and energy that was adorable. Her older sister's tongue pressed down the hole, finding the spot and running over it as Arya shuddered and moaned.

She felt hot and warm, the fire blazing away beside her was part of it, as was the bear's soft fur under her back, but far from all. Sansa's tongue went deeper and deeper, slipping and sliding round the wet walls. The redhead went faster and harder, making Arya's cunt soak with her juice and stoking the flames within, until it seemed her blood was boiling and her sweat was covering her skin like molten steel dripping down a melting blade. "Ooooohhh," she gasped, "Oooooohhh, urrrrrhhh, aaaaaarghhh."

The pleasure was within her, screaming and crying, a wave of ecstasy, "Aaaarrrghhh, yesssss, aaarrrrgghhh."

Sansa raised her head, an expression midway between worry and pride, "Are you alright? Was I good?"

"You were," Arya panted, before sitting up and raising her sister into a sitting position, "I loved you pleasing my twat, it was enjoyable." She kissed Sansa lightly, leaving her lips against her wife's for long seconds, tenderly touching. She stood, "Wait here," she commanded and walked over to her chest.

"What is that?" Sansa asked as her wife walked back with the contraption.

"Some call it the 'woman's weapon'," said Arya, she smiled "It's a sword of a type which needs another woman's sheath." 

"It looks big," said Sansa, "How does it work?"

"It is. Feel it," offered Arya, offering it out to her sister's touch.

"It's wood," her sister stroked the polished phallus, before squeezing it gingerly and then a little harder, "It's soft and solid, not like wood feels at all."

"More like a man's cock, bigger than most," explained Arya, "It's from a tree on the Summer Isles, they make the woman's weapon there. She tapped the leather harness, making it swing beneath the sword, "I wear it for fucking, it goes in you."

"Oh," Sansa blushed, "Like when dogs and horses mate."

"Similar," smiled Arya, "Though they'll be no baby in your belly."

"I know that," her sister laughed blushingly. She looked up at Arya, "I am your woman, my lady, let me be your sword's sheath."

Arya bent over to kiss her sitting sister's forehead and Sansa blushed again, this time in pleasure. "Help me put it on, tighten the straps around my thigh." Sansa did as she was asked, though she was so used to others tightening her belts for her that she didn't do much and in end Arya tightened her own straps as Sansa knelt in front of her, her gaze alternating between the wooden cock and her sister's face. Arya smiled, looking back at her wife, so lovely with her beautiful teats and long red hair, shadows dancing over her. "Do you see the jar on the shelf, there is some lotion in it, rub it on your hands and then the wood, it makes it slide in more easily."

Sansa quickly did as she was asked, returning to her knees and rubbing her hands over the smooth wood, "Like this?" she asked, looking up at her sister again.

"Yes, really rub it in, slather it. It's large and this is your first time, so it be easier for you the more it's oiled."

Her sister nodded and concentrated on rubbing the ointment in, her teats jiggling as she bent forward, her hands working over the fake dick. She scooped out more of the goo and slipped it over the cock, looking up at Arya as if seeking her approval. Arya grinned and nodded, giving it her. "I think that should be ready now," she said, looking down at the glistening weapon.

Her sister nodded and smiled, "My sheath is ready," she giggled and briefly touched herself down below, before snatching her finger away as if her cunt was boiling.

"Lie on your back," said Arya and watched as her sexy sister did that. "Open your legs for me, good, I can see your welcome."

The cunt was damp, pinkly succulent and ready for fucking. Arya got down on her knees beneath her sister and moved on top of her, guiding her weapon to it's sheath. The point pressed in, penetrating the twat and she could hear her sister moan and feel her tremble. Arya continued to push it gently in, there was no hurry and she wanted to make sure Sansa was ready for it and had a wondrous experience as possible, she wanted her to remember their wedding night as a time of their joined joy. Her sister moaned again and raised her hips, encouraging Arya in. "Oh enter me, take my maidenhood."

"Tell me if I'm going to hard," Arya said as she pushed the wooden cock deeper. The walls were tight and firm, gripping at the dick, the slurps of her entrance a counterpoint to the crackle of the logs burning on the fire and the gentle moans of her sister. Arya lifted herself and pushed in again, ready to stop at Sansa's ask. Her sister gave another little groan, her legs moving up to squeeze Arya's and her hands moving from the rug to her sister's back. Arya went in again and then again, pushing the cock further each time.

"Oh, my wife, it feels so good to have you on top of me," Sansa smiled, her teeth glinting in the firelight.

"It feels good for me," Arya smiled back and thrust, deeper and harder. Her sister gave a little gasp, her fingers digging at Arya's back and her smile becoming wider.

The younger Stark moved faster, pushing the cock into her sister's waiting cunt. Sansa gasped and cried in pleasure, her head pushing back on the rug, her hair spread like a head-dress over it. Arya body bounced down on her, squashing Sansa's teat, feeling their softness under her and then sensing them springing back as she rose again, only to be pancaked by her rapid descent.

"You're in me," cried Sansa as Arya went all the way down, burying her sword all the way into it's pink target, Up she went and down again, faster and faster, harder and harder, vigorously pounding the twat, spearing again and again as if she was in battle. Her sparring partner wasn't complaining, gasping and moaning, her hips lifting to meet her sister's weapon with her own, her teats bouncing and jiggling as her body arched and bent. "Oh my love, oooohhh, yes, ooooohh."

Arya shoved again and again, her mouth seeking her sister's throat to lick and kiss the pale skin as she fucked her. The redhead squealed merrily and her hands squeezed and clawed at Arya's back, "Oh more, yes oooohhh, in me please, don't stop."

Over the last few years, ever since her first whore, Arya had fucked dozens of women, from whores and camp followers to highborns and merchant's daughters. Some had been as floppy as a fish, some as cold as the fabled Night King, some had screamed loudly and some had gone about the business with a grim determination. Many had been good, some terrible and a few excellent, but none had been like her maiden sister. It wasn't just the eagerness with which Sansa was fucking her back nor her loud and pleasured screams. It wasn't even her tight grip nor her perfect teats. There was something else, a spiritual connection as well as the physical.

The physical was hellish good though. Arya grinned and thrust in harder and faster, her own cunt raining like a autumn day. The sword ploughed its furrow, the wet flesh clinging and slurping like mud on a boot, juice trickling from the hole like an overflow of wine from a goblet and Sansa squealed once more, "AAArrrghh, do not stop.... aaaaarrgghhh, Mother Above."

"Huh, huh, huh," Arya panted and pounded. The weapon's haft rubbed at her with every thrust and sweat dripped from her forehead, juice from her twat. She pounded down again and again, her stamina and strength honed by days of wearing plate and nights of fucking, of swinging swords at knights and plunging swords at night. Her sister squealed more, her body shuddering and shaking, her hands clawing at Arya. Arya kissed her neck again, lowering her head to a teat, suckling that as her hips and arse rose and fell, spearing in. She was panting heavily now, grunting with exertion as she gave her all, burning and sweating. Still she thrust, ramming her weapon down.

Her sister screamed again, rocking with pleasure. "AAarrrrghhh, yesss, aaaaarghhh." 

Arya thrust again and then fell forward panting. Her sister lay back, embracing her, her own breath fast and fevered as she recovered from her pleasuring. Arya nestled her head comfortably on Sansa's teats, using them as pillows.

"My lady, that was wonderful, even better than yesterday," said Sansa, "I was in heaven with you."

"Good, fucking does that," Arya lifted her enough so that her sister's could see her smile.

"You'll pleasure me more?" her wife asked, "Like that?"

"I will, it's my duty," grinned Arya, "To fuck you every night. It's one I intend to honour."

"I am so glad you took my maidenhood," said Sansa, "You made me whole."

Arya kissed one of the perfect teats, "Come to into the bed my wife, the fire will soon cool." Already the flames had were dying, the logs breaking into glowing embers.

Arya pulled back the heavy fur blanket and climbed in, her wife crawling in the other side. The youngest Stark slipped over, still wearing her woman's weapon and slid her arms round her wife, "Cold?" she asked, gently kissing at her sister's bare shoulder.

"No, not now," giggled Sansa, she bent her back so it snuggled comfortably into her sister's stomach, their naked skin brushing together. Arya's slipped a hand over her sister, stroking the teat, teasing the hardening nipple between finger and thumb. Even as she was doing that her other hand was creeping down to slide over the redhead's peach-like arse cheeks and down between them to find the still wet cunt. Sansa tittered, her body relaxing against her sisters; "I'm becoming quiet hot again."

Arya pushed away her sister's hair, before her hand returned to stroke the bosom. Her lips pressed lightly at the nape of the neck, kissing the flawless pale skin. It was so perfect she couldn't stop, her lips pursing and releasing as she moved up and down, smothering it with dozens of little tiny pecks. Her sister giggled, rubbing her back into Arya, her twat getting damper and damper, as Arya's fingers moved over the fuckhole.

Pressed against her sister she felt her strength and stamina return, her twat itching to fuck. Her lips moved from the neck up around the jawbone edge to her the ear. She kissed the lobe, "I want to fuck you in the arse."

Her sister blushed, "Your weapon is so big for that hole."

Arya leaned over her sister, her own naked teats swinging and Sansa turned to look at her. Arya nodded, "It'll stretch you," she said, "I won't tell you false, it'll hurt at first, but many women like it."

"Many? Not all?" Sansa looked nervously.

"Not all, but if you don't we won't do it. I don't want us to be doing something that won't pleasure you," Arya said.

Her sister smiled prettily, "I'm sure I will enjoy it my husband."

And if you don't you will lie and tell me you do, Arya thought as she read her sister's intentions and recognised her desire to be the perfect wife. Arya loved her for and resolved to listen carefully to hear the falsity in her sister's cries so that if she did mislike it they would not do it again. Out loud she said, "I'll go slow and gentle at first."

"Does it needed oiled again?" Sansa asked.

"No, its still nicely slippery," Arya said, pushing her sister onto her side again. Her hand moved to her wife's rounded arse, stroking the smooth skin and slowly easing the top away from its partner. Her other hand gripped her sword, the ointment on it making her hand feel damp like she was sweating before battle. She slowly brought it forward, stopping as soon as it touched her sister's rosebud.

Sansa shivered and Arya kissed her back gently, "Tell me if you want me to stop," she commanded.

"I will," her sister lied so fluently that Arya almost believed her. She kissed her again, massaging the rounded rear reassuringly and pushed the tip of the weapon into her wife, splintering the sphincter. Sansa gave a little squeak and then clamped her mouth shut as if she feared the slightest sound would be taken as a call for her sister to stop. Arya did pause, but only for a moment as she moved her hand from the arse to the cunt, stroking at the wet fuckhole. 

She kissed her sister again, "You're doing good," and shoved the weapon a little further. The redhead trembled, but kept her mouth shut. Arya's finger slid over her cunt, feeling it warm wetness and hoping that pleasuring one hole would relax the other. "Just let me in."

Her weapon pushed further into the maiden arse passage, fighting the tough walls desperate to keep the intruder from advancing further up the passage. Arya pulled back and then went in again, forcing her weapon deeper, beating back the defenders. It was a battle of a different sort, the weapons different and the outcome more pleasurable, but it was still forged in sweat and effort and strength. She pushed forward again, grunting with effort. Her sister trembled and squealed, that was the other side of the battle, the pain, the weapons penetrating deep into flesh. Arya hoped that it was worth it and that there would be a victory for her sister as well as herself. Her finger pressed in her sister's cunt, tickling it. "You're so wet."

"Oh," Sansa gasped, her body shaking, "Am I doing it right? I'm not too tight for you? I can't help it."

"It'll go in, it'll just take a little effort," Arya spoke with experience and even as she was saying it she was feeling the walls loosen and the wooden cock push in faster. She continued to grip it though as she shoved and worked it in deeper, opening the hole. Her sister trembled again, her cunt soaked over Arya's finger. "That's right," Arya said, "My cock's going in."

"I can feel it my love, oooohhh, I can feel it. It's sore, but good," Sansa moaned, her own hand moved to her twat, rubbing it with her sister. "I can feel the pleasure. Oooohh, it stretches."

"You'll get used to it," Arya confirmed, her hand moving to the cunt and gripping her sister's waist. "Is it getting easier?"

"Oooohh, it is, its getting deeper, its finding places... oooohhh Arya, pleasure me, make my backside happy like you did to my ladyhole," Sansa moaned and shuddered, her elbow shaking and banging as she finger-fucked her cunt. Arya smiled, glad that her sister was enjoying it and upped her speed, pressing the fake phallus harder and deeper into the hole.

The walls retreated, battered and bruised like they'd just lost a joust, the hole opening for Arya's cock to drive in. The youngest Stark hammered, pushing the dick deeper. Her sister shook again, her body arching and her back pressing at Arya. Arya held her and thrust forward, forcing the weapon in. "OOoohh," Sansa groaned, the sound full of pleasure, "Ooooohhh, this is so good."

"I'm almost all the way in," Arya said, her hand moving up to knead a teat.

"Put it in, I want it all," moaned Sansa.

Arya complied, ramming forward, battering the final anal gates away and conquering the arsehole fully. Her sister cried out in pleasure, her body shaking and rocking against Arya's, her fingers slipping into her cunt as her other hole was hammered. Arya didn't stop, but continued to bang. The blankets rustled above her and the mattress shook and sank, a downy feather escaping to float in the air. "You can tell me to stop," she panted, though she was sure her sister wouldn't.

"Oooohhh, no, don't, pleasure me Arya, oooohhh make my bottom ache with your weapon, I want it so much, it is so good," Sansa moaned and shuddered.

Arya grinned and pounded, her hand rubbing and squeezing one of her sister's marvellous teats as she arse-fucked her. The redhead squealed and gasped, seemingly enjoying the fucking the harder and faster her sister pounded. Arya listened out for falseness, but there was no sign of it and it was a well known fact that women could not act, only men (and normally low-born at that). She thrust again and listened to her sister's cry, it was passionate and intense and full of joy. Arya cupped and squeezed the teat and rammed happily.

"AAaaarrrghh, aaaarrghhh, oooohhh, my insides are boiling, pleasure me, my lady love, aaaaarrgghhh," Sansa shrieked, her head pressing back at her sister's and her long hair draping down her like a tapestry, "Aaaaarrrghhh, your weapon is so strong, oooohhh, its penetrating my bottom so deep."

Arya rode her new wife fast and hard, slamming her weapon into the broken keep. It rubbed at her as she pounded and whilst her grunts were not as loud or as passionate as her arse-fucking loving sister, they were still driven by pleasure. She slammed in and out, rocking back and forth. The mattress waved below them, soft and comforting. The last light of the fire went out and all that was visible were dark shadows, barely illuminated by the shine of stars beyond the shutters. "Aaaarrrghhh," screamed Sansa, "Aaaaarggghh." 

If she was able to speak she didn't say anything. Never truer had been their words, 'Winter is Cumming'.

Sweat poured down Arya, more than when she'd worn a full suit of plate and jousted, more even than when she'd stood next to the forge watching her new sword being hammered from molten iron. She panted with exertion, her heart pumping with the effort, her muscles aching as she went as hard and fast as she could. Her sister screamed out again, no words interrupting the shrill cries of ecstasy. Arya pumped as fast as she could, making the mattress sway with her passion, as she loved her sister with an intensity she'd had never loved another woman with. The redhead shrieked and cried, her body rocking with every pound.

Until even Arya couldn't continue. She panted as she pulled her weapon out. Her sister sighed and collapsed against her, the redhead's body relaxing into Arya's. The younger Stark reached down and stroked the arse hole, it was craterous, like the entrance to an open cast mine. Her sister didn't seem to mind, "That was wonderful, Arya, you pleasured me so well."

"Good Sansa, now you're my wife I'll be regularly wanting my conjugal rights," Arya grinned.

Her sister tittered, "I hope so."


End file.
